


just a little bit

by challengeaccepted



Category: Kings (TV 2009), Political Animals
Genre: Drugs, Homophobia, M/M, Sebastian Stan Fucks Himself, ancient fic is ancient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 21:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/challengeaccepted/pseuds/challengeaccepted
Summary: Jack needs.  TJ provides.





	just a little bit

TJ recognizes him right away, of course. What the shamed crown prince of Gilboa is doing at his impromptu house party is anyone's guess, but TJ is nothing if not a good host and the storm cloud hanging around the punch table is starting to scare away the other guests.

He weaves his way through the crowd, greeting a few partygoers and kissing a few more, and slides his way right into Prince Jack Benjamin's personal space. "It's supposed to be a party," says TJ, filling up a cup of punch for himself. "What's the matter, someone die?"

The prince looks at him so sharply TJ wonders if someone actually did. "Do you know who I am?" he asks, like there's a chance TJ doesn't. 

TJ just grins. "Maybe. Do _you?_ "

"I'm a disgrace, a failure, a deviant," the prince bites out, and TJ has to take a step back at the sheer bitterness in his voice. The guy's pretty wound-up, and that's not a good thing. "A weakling fag of an heir—need I go on?"

"Nah," says TJ, because he's heard it all before. "Look, man, I just wanted to say—you're totally missing the point of a party. You're supposed to be loosening up, not brooding by the punch bowl."

"You don't know what it's like, don't you?" says the prince, and this time he sounds less gloomy and more just like a douchebag, which TJ's had no shortage of dealing with. "To have everyone you've ever loved turn their backs on you. To be scorned by your own family for what you had no choice in being."

TJ can't deny it's true. Mom and Dad, Dougie, Nana—they'd never abandon him for anything. They keep trying to _help_ him (which is a whole other problem in itself) but they'd never do to TJ what he'd watched King Silas do to his own son on live television, in front of the whole world. If they'd outed him that publicly, that disgustedly, well—TJ would have been sitting in that garage a hell of a lot earlier.

"Yeah, so maybe I don't know what it's like to be Jack Benjamin," says TJ, slinging his arm around the prince's neck. "But I know what it's like to be me, and you know what's always helped me unwind?"

"What."

"Drugs, mostly." He leans in close, whispers conspiratorially into Jack's ear. "And sex. _Lots_ of it."

"You're offering both," says Jack, not really a question. In response, TJ just tugs him in for a kiss: Jack tastes like the shitty punch TJ's friends threw together at the last minute and whiskey somewhere under that, and TJ licks into his open mouth like they're the only two people for miles.

"Got a room upstairs," says TJ, grinning. "If you want." 

Jack looks considering, then takes TJ's outstretched hand. "I don't," he replies. "But it's not about what I _want_ , is it?"

Jack takes the lead up the stairs like he's the one who actually lives here, leaving TJ to follow. He stops in front of TJ's door and TJ pushes him forward to Dougie's, which is a hell of a lot cleaner than his. _Sorry, bro,_ thinks TJ, but he knows he'll be forgiven for it. Eventually.

With the lights on, Jack's face looks less sharp, a little young, a lot lost. The kind of lost where you fake it till you make it, pretending you're on top when you feel like you're at rock-bottom, and TJ would know all about that. "I'm good with anything," he says, suddenly empathetic. "What are you into?"

Jack starts removing his shoes and socks, arranging them neatly, followed by his jacket. "I'm going to fuck you. I assume you have supplies."

"Dresser drawer," says TJ. "Coke first, though."

They do the lines off of one of Doug's old law school textbooks; Jack takes the hit like a pro. The music's loud enough that the bass still filters up and shakes the walls, but now TJ can hear the noises Jack makes when he kisses him, small and stifled, like he's trying to keep them from escaping. It only makes TJ want to kiss him harder, shake the noises out of him, because the crown prince of Gilboa may be a prick but you can't say he doesn't have good reason to be.

"Take these off," says Jack, pulling at the front of TJ's clothes. TJ does, leaving them strewn over the floor. When he looks back up, Jack's stripping quickly, efficiently, folding his clothes like they're some sort of uniform and setting them beside his shoes.

"Bed," he says, demanding, and TJ goes.

Jack fucks him ferociously, like he's got something to prove, and TJ arches into it, bites the line of Jack's shoulder, gives as good as he gets. The high just makes everything that much better—his heart's beating out of his chest and every brush of Jack's skin against his feels like a small miracle. But when TJ leans up and tries to kiss him, Jack just turns his head away.

"What's the matter, afraid to kiss me?" says TJ between breaths, tightening his thighs around Jack's waist. Jack doesn't respond. "Come on, man, the secret's out. Everyone knows you're—"

"Shut _up_."

There's a loud, ringing _smack_ , and it takes TJ a few seconds to realize it's the sound of Jack's hand connecting with TJ's face. Jack's rings leave pinpricks in his cheek—it hurts like an absolute _bitch_ —but he hasn't stopped fucking TJ, either, driving into him hard and deep at exactly the right pace he needs. "Christ, fuck," says TJ, too far gone to get angry, nearly choking on the words; he barely has to touch himself before he's coming, clenching up tight around Jack's cock.

Jack groans, hips stuttering, and follows after barely a few more thrusts. He leans heavily on TJ for a moment, and TJ uses the opportunity to card his hands through Jack's hair, to kiss him absently on the neck. He can't help feeling sorry for Jack—they've come from the same place, suffered the same blows, and even though TJ's come to peace with who he is and what he wants, Jack isn't anywhere close. 

TJ's willing to bet that when Jack finally gets there, King Silas is in for one hell of a fight.

Too soon, Jack withdraws and rolls off of him, knotting the condom and dropping it to the floor. He gets dressed quickly, back to the bed, and he's nearly at the door before TJ can call out to him. "Hey," he says, leaning up on his elbows, and Jack pauses. "You don't have to leave so soon." 

Jack doesn't look at him. "I don't need anything else from you." 

"Sure." TJ stretches out, loose-limbed and tired. The pillow smells like Jack's expensive cologne, but only faintly—the scent'll be gone by morning. "You going to be okay?"

"I'm going to be king," Jack says, like it's a proper answer, and this time TJ doesn't try to keep him there.


End file.
